Loss
by northernexposure
Summary: *SPOILER ALERT FOR 8.3* Don't read if you haven't seen it. For the second time in a month, Ruth found herself inconsolable. H/R


Loss

SPOILER ALERT - Don't read this unless you've seen 8.3.

Summary: Missing scene, post 8.3

Author's note: Okay, so I've become obsessed with Spooks. I thought 8.3 was excellent, and was totally mesmerised by the final tableau of Ruth, in darkness, crying outside Harry's lit office. So here's a missing scene, aiming to fill in the void between that moment and what was hinted at in the trailer for 8.4. Reviews loved and appreciated!

* * *

For the second time in a month, Ruth found herself inconsolable. She made it as far as the door to Harry's office before the blatant weight of the cruel world lay itself upon her shoulders with force enough to drive her against the wall. She sobbed and sobbed, as if her tears could drown the earth and provide something - anything - to float upon.

Jo. Beautiful, _beautiful_ Jo, dead and gone. The abyss of grief that Ruth had been struggling to push back down beneath her ribcage for weeks burst its banks and threatened to drown her in the tide. Her hands against her face, she stood, forehead against the wall, blind to where she was. Her first day back. Her first day back, and already her tiny dreams of peace, of familiarity, of a form of family, were shattered. Jo...

Someone touched her shoulderblade, large fingers spreading warmth across the desolate bone. For a moment, she was confused, alone as she was in such a magnitude of grief. Then she realised where she was: the Grid. Not the place for such an abject outpouring of emotion. She pulled one hand from her face and placed it against the wall, wiping tears away with the other.

"I'm sorry," she managed. "I'm sorry... Just... give me a minute."

The hand moved, fractionally, circling. "Take all the time you need. We're alone here, Ruth."

Was it really so late? She'd forgotten, somehow, how the day could grow so long so quickly, here in this building. She half-turned, and the hand dropped, running along her arm and deserting it at her elbow. She wanted to avoid his eyes, but it was too late for that.

They were dark. Harry's own pain was silently etched in the creases of his face, even as he watched her with a deeper concern.

"I'm sorry. I know you two were friends. And after-" he broke off as she shook her head.

"Don't, Harry. Please. There's nothing to say. What could you possibly say? She-" Ruth shrugged, trying, unsuccessfully, to wipe away more tears. "It was her job. I'm just out of practice..." She broke off as the tears started again in earnest. Ruth put her hands to her face again, trying to stem the tide, trying to protect herself from feeling anything, anything at all, for fear of feeling too much.

"Ruth..." She jumped as she felt his hands again, at her wrists, pulling her hands away from her face. He'd stepped closer, and she breathed, suddenly, the scent of his aftershave, a smell she'd thought she'd left behind years ago. "You're not out of practice. It never gets easier. It _never_ does."

Ruth blinked, caught by the guarded pain in Harry's eyes... the deeply etched hurt of years, of numerous colleagues killed in the line of duty, of loss and emptiness and the loneliness of duty.

"Then why?" She whispered, her voice almost swallowed by the insulated silence of the Grid. "Why do we do it?"

He shook his head, a minute movement Ruth would have missed had she not been watching him so closely. "Because there's no one else," he said. "There's only us. There's only us, Ruth."

"Us?" She asked, hoarsely. "Last month there wasn't an us. I wasn't here."

"And the poorer we were for it."

Ruth shook her head, staring around the darkened Grid. "You don't need me. Look at how easily you replaced Malcolm."

"That wasn't easy," said Harry. "It was necessary."

"Yes. And if I wasn't here, you'd find someone else."

"Ruth..."

"I don't think I can do this, Harry. I thought I was ready. I thought this was where I should be. But now..."

"You said it was good to be back."

Ruth laughed, without humour. "It was already a relative term, Harry, and I clearly spoke to soon."

"We need you, Ruth."

"No, Harry, you don't. You need someone _like_ me."

Harry shook his head. "Then I need you. _I_ need you."

She stared at him, feeling his fingers encircling her wrists. He met her gaze, a deep spark of truth flaring in his eyes. She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.

"Don't leave me again, Ruth. Once was enough."

"Harry -"

He increased the pressure on her wrists, and she felt herself being tugged forward, just a fraction. Harry's eyes searched her face, as if memorising every inch. "I need you, Ruth. I need you working for us, because you're the best and because there are so few of those left. I need to see your face every day. I need to know you're here."

They were close, toe to toe, and one of Ruth's fractured breaths again caught the essence of his scent.

"I loved Jo," he said, and an echo of his broken heart sounded in his voice, "as much as I loved every one of the agents I have lost under my command."

Her hands had reached his chest, and she laid them there, feeling the flood of grief enveloping them both. "I know, Harry. I know..."

"Then don't," he said, simply, as he laid his forehead against hers. "Don't leave again. Stay."

Ruth felt his hands move, finally, but only to slide along her forearms, gathering her in. She could feel him trying to control his breathing, shaky as it was. Here was Harry, as ever, projecting strength through everything, riding it all because that was what was expected.

She moved her head, feeling his skin brush lightly against hers until she had rested her head on his broad shoulder. His jacket was rough against her face and she turned her face, instinctively, into his shirt. Harry's arms flexed around her, suddenly, tightly.

They stood like that for a long time, with the subdued hum of the Grid all around them.

"Ruth," Harry said at last, into the silence, "despite everything, and despite what you had to go through... It is so _good_ to see you."

Her heart convulsed, a pulse of guilt reacting with something warmer and entirely too wonderful for the day. "Harry, please don't..." She pulled away, and he let her go, reluctantly.

He rubbed one hand over his eyes. "Too soon?" he said, and Ruth didn't know if he meant too soon after George, or too soon after Jo, but either way he was right.

"I think I need some time." She said, and reached for him again, catching his fingers in her own. "I think... I don't know what I think. I need to work out what to do."

He looked down at their joined hands and stroked his thumb across her knuckle before looking up at her with a nod. "Then promise me you'll let me know. I won't just come in one morning to find your desk empty."

She offered a pale smile, tinged with tears. "I promise, Harry."

He nodded with a sigh, and let go her hand. "Let me just get my coat, and I'll drop you home."

"There's no need, I can take-"

"No, you can't. No arguments. I'm taking you home."

Ruth nodded, and watched him turn off the light in his office, plunging the Grid into darkness.

[END]


End file.
